


Like my mirror years ago

by Lothiriel84



Category: The Monster Hunters (Podcast)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Christmas Special, Episode Tag, F/M, Gen, Heavy Drinking, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Pity, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21959335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: To the strand, a picnic planned for you and meA rope in hand, for your other manTo hang from a tree
Kudos: 2





	Like my mirror years ago

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eruthiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eruthiel/gifts).



_Oh, for goodness’ sake, Roy. Not again._

He takes another swig of brandy – not scotch, he hasn’t touched the stuff since Scotland – and shrugs to the room at large. To his credit, his imaginary interlocutor looks far from impressed.

_You promised, Roy. Scout’s honour, and everything._

“I was never that good of a scout, anyway.”

The truth is, he’s never been any good at this – _emotions, they get in the way of a good hunter_ , that’s what his old man used to say, and he’s been avoiding them like the plague ever since. You let your vulnerability show, and you get eaten alive – that’s what his time in Africa has taught him, and look where that got him in the end.

_Hunting monsters doesn’t count as a coping mechanism, Roy._

“Just rub it in, won’t you,” he snaps, the Lorrimer in his head retreating into the shadows of his increasingly fuzzy consciousness. “We were doing just fine, until you decided to quit.”

 _You’re not enough_ , the ghost of Reg Steel chimes in, even more unforgiving than he was in life. _You never were._

“Thanks, Dad,” he huffs, his hand shaking as he pours himself another one. The room is starting to blur at the edges, as if everything is spinning just out of view, leaving him behind.

When he comes round again, everything is bathed in darkness, the streetlight filtering dimly through the curtains. His mouth is parched; his limbs heavy, as if moving through treacle.

_Don’t you see, Roy? The rush of power, the thrill of the chase – that’s what you and I were made for. That’s where Chesterfield went wrong, can’t you see it?_

He takes the glass of water he’s being offered, gingerly brings it to his lips. She’s even more beautiful now than he remembers her, with that triumphant smirk dancing in her hazel eyes – a leopard in gazelle’s clothing, not so much graceful as she is deadly.

“You died, again,” he says, stupidly, his mouth and brain struggling to catch up with one another. “You can’t really be here.”

_Can’t I?_

He stares into his glass of water, wishes it were scotch instead. Then he remembers about the tree, and Lorrimer, and just like that, the bitter taste of misery is back on his tongue.

“Are you here to kill me?” he wonders, somewhat hopefully. Being dead means he won’t be hurting anymore, and from where he’s standing – well, sitting – right now, that doesn’t sound too bad an outlook, all things considered.

_Not while you’re in this state, I’m not. Where would be the fun in that?_

Roy thinks about it for a moment, and for all that she’s a psychopath and a murderer, he can’t quite fault her logic.

“What’s next, then?”

She smiles down at him – a lioness toying with her prey, only he’s more than happy to bare his neck for her to bite in.

_We’re going to have so much fun, you and I._

He grins back, stupidly – doesn’t matter, he’s way past caring – and raises his glass to salute her.


End file.
